I'm Still Here
by Kay Skie
Summary: Jace, hurt-comfort, mundane. Based on "I'm Still Here" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Clary is new, meets Jace, sees something in him that others are blinded to and gets to him in a way no one ever has before.
1. I Am

_I am_

**Jace**

I am, I am what? I am the son of a mother who abandoned me before I was old enough to process thoughts. I am the son of a fiercely strict father who was shot and killed before my very eyes when I was a grand total of ten years old. I am someone who still suffers from nightmares pertaining to that truthfully terrifying event. I am the product of an unfortunate upbringing-or so I've been told; I thought my father was a good one. He was strict but relented with me on some things such as allowing me to do anything I desired on my birthday.

I am the foster-brother of the school tease Isabelle Lightwood, the quiet, misunderstood Alec Lightwood and young, kind Max Lightwood. My favorite is Max because he looks up to me and I have to take care of him when Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood are at work and Izzy and Alec are out doing who knows what. I am someone who blocks most people out but it's difficult to have someone depend so much on you and not feel protective of them so I have made an exception for Max. He's more my little brother than theirs.

Unfortunately, I am someone who cannot love, not even in an older brotherly way for my father would always say, "To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed". Clearly this means that if someone loves me then I will be destroyed and if I love someone then they will be destroyed. Life is tragic, life is hard, it's full of despair and misery so how can anyone find love here anyway?

I am someone who physically walks with the popular crowd simply because it makes me appear untouchable even though they all posses the mental capacity of a shed full of tools which is coincidently what most of them are. I am someone who watches people and detects strange activities easily. I am someone who purposely appears oblivious at all times and yet studies everything. I am someone no one truly knows, therefore I remain a mystery to all-a rubix cube that no one wishes to solve.

I am known as a player but I am a virgin. I am known as a flirt but I haven't ever actually dated anyone. I am a jerk but I don't mean it-that isn't a rumor, it's a major part of a carefully constructed act.

I am untouchable on the outside but my heart is made of glass. I am sarcastic but it's a defense-mechanism. I am wanted by many but not for who I am. I am careful with who I let in so I let no one in-not all the way at least. The Lightwoods think they know me but they don't. I am someone who is followed by a huge crowd at school but really has no true friends. I am someone who needs to get his life together but has no idea where to begin. I am someone who needs guidance but all the parental figures in my life are long gone, dead or always at work. I am someone who needs to man up but doesn't want to because I'm not sure how one goes about doing that.

I am someone who is known for having a extra-large ego but I'm actually highly insecure. I am someone who acts like they don't give a crap about anyone but secretly wants to be a doctor or serve to protect the country. I am someone who is supposed to hate school but consistently makes straight A's every semester.

I am Jace Herondale and this dear readers is my ironic and tragic tale.


	2. A Question

_"A Question"_

**Jace**

Questions. They can be so simple and yet so complex. Some are deceiving and some are fairly straightforward. It all depends on who's asking the question and what their motive is for wishing to discover the answer to their question. For some, the motives aren't so kind but for others, there is no hidden agenda and they simply wish to know the answer for the sake of knowing.

There's this new girl at school. Her name is Clarissa Fray. She has red hair like fire and green eyes that resemble emeralds. Everyone has had nothing to talk about since she moved here last week and I've had nothing to think about since then either. I just can't comprehend how someone so tiny can be packed with so much fire.

It all started when she became my partner in art class and I asked her a question. It was a simple question but I had no idea how much it could change my view on the world.

She sits down in the chair beside me at the beginning of her first day and I immediately check her out. She's probably 5'3 at the most but she's gorgeous beyond belief. No one else looks like her in the entire school and she has a style that's uniquely her own. Of course, all things unique are eaten alive at this school so I try not to get used to her wearing clothes that actually cover her body in a way that's modest and yet fashionable.

"I'm sure you already know but I'm Jace Herondale." I say, all suave, waiting for her to swoon at my feet. "And you are?"

"Annoyed at your arrogance." She replies, looking me in the eye.

"Yes, I am arrogant, but I'm also unfathomably good-looking, charming, strikingly handsome, sarcastic, smoldering hot, and many more other great things that you and all the other girls of the world would just love to know." I say, secretly wondering why she isn't kissing the ground I walk on like all the other girls. I like the fact that she isn't. She's viewing me as a flawed human being rather than a creature sent from Heaven. Frankly I prefer how she's acting to how all those other girls behave. I don't think them throwing themselves at me is particularly attractive.

She glares at me. "Two things: I'm not like other girls and you aren't God's gift to humanity. Not everything's about you, you know."

I grin cockily at her. "Yes, but most things are, you'll find that out soon enough. Also, your two things were actually three things. You should probably consider getting a math tutor." I suggest.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Of course I get stuck with a jerk." She mutters, digging through her bag.

"And of course I get stuck with a red smurf." I comment.

"Really? That's the best you can do? Don't you think I've heard it all by now?" She retorts.

"Nah, you haven't had me for your partner. You'll have heard it all once I'm done with you." I reply.

"That sounds creepy. I might have to consider changing partners." She states.

I blink. I hadn't considered that and I actually don't want her to do that. I'm not sure why but I don't want her to leave.

"But then you wouldn't be partnered with _me_." I point out, trying to make it sound like it would be more of a tragedy for her than for me even though I worry it's the latter option.

"Exactly." She says.

"You know, there are countless people who would just love to be my partner and you have this wondrous opportunity right here for you to take. How could you possibly refuse?" I ask.

"Easily." She says, looking around the room. She scowls. "Unfortunately it looks like all the other people have partners so I guess I'm stuck with you."

"You'll learn to love it. If you don't then you're completely crazy." I tell her.

She shrugs. "Everyone's their own kind of crazy."

"That is a very big statement for such a small person."

"You still admitted that it was a big statement therefore it was an important statement so the insignificant hit on my diminutive height can be ignored because you unintentionally admitted that you agreed with me."

"That was an even bigger statement from a still very small person."

She stares at the ceiling, seeming to contemplate her bad luck and I stare at my desk, wondering how such a small thing as a question allowed me to meet someone who can actually keep up with my verbal games.


	3. To The World

_"To The World"_

**Jace**

In English we're going over love and loss so of course we're going over Shakespeare's multitude of tragedies. Currently we're reading "Othello". It's a lesser known tragedy but Shakespearian all the same, but I digress for I am running on a tangent. At this very moment I'm attempting to write a paper about love. Yes, Jace Herondale is cruelly being forced to construct a paper on love of all things. It just doesn't compute in my mind but here I am all the same. I guess anything can happen after all.

_A Pessimist's View on Love_

_There are many sides to love. There's the fairy tale nonsense that some blindly spend their lives dreaming of and then there's the real thing which consists of hard work. One must take responsibility to not only their feelings, wants and needs but also to the feelings, wants and needs of another. That's not an easy task. With every relationship there's work put in so a fairytale look on love is not accurate in the least._

_"To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed." This is something my father would say this mantra on numerous occasions throughout my childhood. It means that if someone loves someone else then they destroy them and if that person loves them back then they are destroyed by that person. For example, in Shakespeare's tragedy "Othello", Othello loved Desdemona and Desdemona loved him. When Othello thought that Desdemona was cheating on him, that destroyed him because he had previously been under the impression that she loved him. When that thought was shattered in his mind, his heart was as well. He still loved her though and decided that her sin (her cheating on him) would be what ruined her in the end so he had to prevent her from sinning anymore. So he decided to kill her. (Clearly his good judgement was destroyed as well as his heart.) Regrettably, Othello found out the truth moments after he killed the woman he loved. It turned out that his most trusted advisor, Iago had deceived him. Othello was so upset that he ended his own life. Othello loved Desdemona and then he destroyed her. Othello was loved by Desdemona and he too was destroyed. In this instance love appears to be more of a tragic event than a desirable one._

_Of course, in an ideal world, love wouldn't work that way. People would have the ability to love and be loved without such dire consequences. If someone loved someone else then they wouldn't have to keep it a secret, they wouldn't have to pretend it wasn't true. They could scream it on the rooftops, they could scream it to the world. When one fell in love, it would be seen as a blessing rather than a curse. Life and love would work together in a way they currently don't. There would be assured safety with love all around in a utopian kind of world._

_Maybe there is something positive about love. Perhaps this author just lacks sight of it. There _must_ be _something_ about love that forces people to spend their lives search for it. Either that or the world is filled with fools. This author is open to believing either theory. Still, with all the positive love songs there are and the surplus of cheesy romantic films and novels, there must be _something_ appealing about love. Why else would the media exploit it so much?_

_Some make it to the final step in love, "in sickness and in health, til death do us part", or something to that effect. That's the ultimate goal in love, is it not? Marriage. That is such a controversial thing. Is it better to stay with someone one's whole life or is it better to never tie oneself down to one person? What if one is miserable with that one person who was supposed to be their everything? What then? Divorce, that's what. Supposedly, fifty percent of all marriage ends in divorce. After some research, this author can state that that particular statistic is wrong, it's less than fifty percent. However, this author also feels the need to point out that there has been a decrease in both marriage and divorce in recent years. That's because people are less willing to take that major jump, to risk losing that person forever. They don't think they can do it. Maybe that's the biggest tragedy. Our society isn't really getting a decrease in new divorces because there's such a significant drop in the amount of new marriages. It just seems a pity that fewer people are giving love a chance._

_Personally, this author feels that love does destroy people. However, if this author were to find someone who could provide conclusive evidence that could prove otherwise, then he would scream his love for that girl to the world._

I read over my paper and print it out for next Thursday even though it's only Monday. Yes, Jace Herondale does his assignments early; so what?

There are many things I often wish I could tell the world. I would start by telling everyone to get off my back and let me be who _I _want to be. Not who _they _want me to be. It's my life. Not theirs. Then I would tell the world that I want to help people, that I'm not just the snide, cocky asshole they all think I am. That all that's just an act and there's actually a good person hiden under the shallow shell they all see and generally accept. The world would know exactly how I feel about it's immense supply of corruption, greed, and violence, and it's tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again. The world would know that I think it's pretty screwed up that I'm so popular when I stomp all over people when there are people who actually act like they care about others who are way less popular. I'm an awful person but I'm glorified and foolishly sought after. How can we live in a world that's so backward that behavior like _that _is acceptable? That is a load of crap. That's what I would tell the world.

I'm just not sure the world is ready for all that. Yet.


	4. Not An Answer

**Sorry for the long wait. Here's the new chapter.**

* * *

_"Not an answer"_

**Jace**

There are multitudes of types of answers but some "answers" really don't count. Lies for instance, they don't count simply because they lack truth. Short answers can count but it depends on the question. Some answers long or short just are not acceptable. This will make sense in a little bit...

I walk to art class where I find Clary already in her seat. Smirking, I take my seat beside her and prepare to start shamelessly flirting with her. I've noticed exactly how much it gets under her skin but I can tell she enjoys it a little even though her better judgement is fighting against such ludicrious thoughts. That just makes me enjoy it more. It's fun for me because she's one of the few people who can keep up with me. She keeps me on my toes.

I give a small tug at her hair which is in her face and say, "Nice cherry locks but they're covering your face. You aren't hiding from me are you?"

She doesn't reply.

"Hello? I'm talking to you." I say, swinging her hair back and forth like a tail.

"Leave me alone Jace." She mumbles tiredly, taking the strand of her hair from my hand. Our fingertips brush and mine tingle.

Well that's weird. I look around and see nobody else here but us and the teacher.

"That's better. You're talking but you don't sound so great. Are you okay?" I reply, truthfully very concerned but trying not to show it.

She nods.

"Nodding isn't an answer." I report.

She whips around and glares at me. Her eyes are puffy and red; she looks like she's been crying.

"Nodding means yes, you ignorant imbecile. Why can't you just leave me alone and bother someone else? I didn't ask for this and I'm tired of you constantly being an annoying, self-centered jerk!" She whispers harshly.

Okay...

"I just asked you if you were okay; that isn't self-centered." I point out.

"Oh congratulations! You acted like you gave a crap about someone for a couple of seconds. Good job! Someone give the boy a medal!" She whisper-yells as her face turns as red as her hair. On a normal day I would inform her of this but not today. She's acting really strange.

"Whatever it is that happened to you. I'm sorry for it." I whisper, looking into her eyes for just a second before quickly dropping my gaze. Do I really want a girl I've known for two weeks to know that I might care about her?

She glares harder but it doesn't hide her confusion. "Why does something have to have happened to me for me to get tired of your crap?" She demands.

"You aren't tired of my crap because it's a game of ours. I give you grief and you set me straight. It's fun. You enjoy it too; I've seen it in your eyes." I tell her quietly.

"You saw wrong." She whispers before gathering her things and storming out of the classroom leaving me stunned.

* * *

**After school...**

**Jace**

Clary's outburst in art makes everything increasingly confusing. I feel as though I should do something to help her. When she took off I felt like I should've run after her. This is an issue because I'm feeling things for her. My father taught me that to love means to destroy so my possibly having feelings for Clary needs to stop. I don't want that girl getting hurt because I screwed up by not being able to control myself. Father would be ashamed of me and he's who I decide to see once school gets out. I take my car and drive to the graveyard to visit his grave.

I stare at the tombstone and wonder if he would've liked what I picked out for him. Not that it matters. You see, I loved my father so it's my fault he died. "To love is to destroy" this includes any kind of love, even the innocent kind of love a son has for his father. So I loved him and I destroyed him. He also said that "to be loved was to be the one destroyed" which means he didn't love me, otherwise I would be dead too. He was strong and I was weak-as always.

"Hello Father." I begin. "I'm here to talk to you about a transgression of mine. I worry I may have feelings for a girl at my school. It's foolish; I know. She's just so wonderful and there's this light to her that I've never seen before. You would be bitterly disappointed in me if you were here but you aren't and I'm sorry. It's my fault. I should've been stronger but I gave into my weakness. I can never apologize enough for that. I'm not here to talk about you though. I'm here to talk about her. She makes me feel alive and I barely know her. It feels as though I've known her forever though, but that's one of the oldest clichés in ludicrous romantic fantasies. It's the sort of thing twelve year-old girls say, not the words of an intelligent seventeen year-old boy. I'm nearly a man but I don't want to act like one. I don't know how. I'm sorry but I don't. I'm going off on a tangent but I don't know what to do. You're dead and Mr. Lightwood is never around so I have no example of what a man should be. I don't know what to do-you would have beat me senseless if you heard such words escape my lips but they've never been more true. I'm sorry sir but I'm lost. I lack the knowledge required for me to move forward in life. What do I do about the girl? How do I become a man? I need answers. Please."

I wait, as if his grave or tombstone may actually offer me guidance. The wind blows but it is not an answer or if it is, it isn't any answer I've ever heard of.

I turn to leave when I see a flash of red hair in the distance. I look for the red and see a girl on the hill with bright red hair. A strange feeling builds up in my gut and I _know_ it's Clary up there. I'm surprised at myself for making such an assumption but my feet carry me up there and I discover that my blind hypothesis was correct. I'd never have guessed exactly what I see though. She's sitting at a grave with flowers clutched in her hands and she's weeping.

"Hey Clary." I say quietly before I can stop myself.

She doesn't answer and I nearly turn around and run away but then she looks up at me.

"Are you here to mess with me? Because I'm not in the mood." She says through her tears.

"No, you get a pass when you're in tears in front of a gravestone. May I ask whose it is?" I say softly.

"It's my twin brother Jonathan's. He died in a car-crash. I've lived here all my life but school wasn't the same without him so I transferred to yours." She whispers.

I don't say anything.

"What? No snide comment? Ha, you couldn't take going to school without your brother! You're such a pathetic coward! Go ahead! Say whatever you want! I've already told myself every nasty thing I can think of. Try surprising me with something new-I dare you." She says, glaring at me with bloodshot green eyes.

I sit beside her and whisper, "Death isn't a joke. I won't tell anyone your secret."

"Why are you roaming around in a graveyard anyway?" She asks.

I just shrug.

"That's not an answer Jace." She points out.

Another spring breeze hits us and I lean back to enjoy it. "Oh, but it is Clary." I reply.


	5. To Be Heard

_"To be heard"_

**Jace**

I sit beside Clary on the hill the entire afternoon. We don't really say anything to each other, we just sit together. When I look at her, I see her staring out in the distance with a faraway look. She seems lost, probably lost in thought. It seems nice, being able to escape the world just by visualizing something else, becoming lost in thoughts that aren't filled with nightmares. For this I envy her.

When it starts getting dark I tap her shoulder. "Clary?" I ask.

She looks lost when she looks at me, as if only now remembering that I'm actually here. To wake her up faster, I grin cockily. "Take a picture. It'll last longer." I suggest.

She scowls. "In your dreams Lightwood." She mutters.

I feel a pang of longing in my chest. The Lightwoods are my foster family. I may live in their house but I'll never be good enough for them to adopt me. Not that I've ever really tried. Nobody can ever come to care about me because then I might care about them and those I care about always end up hurt.

"Nah, you know you dream about me Fray." I reply smugly.

She rolls her eyes. "You are delusional." She informs me.

"Maybe, but I'll bet that you were daydreaming about me." I counter.

"I was planning your funeral. We are at a graveyard after all." She replies.

"Cold Fray, really cold." I tell her.

Now it's her turn to smirk. "I try." She says.

Without meaning to I smile at her, a very small but unwillingly real smile. I can't believe she got me to really smile. Usually Max is the only one who can.

"So that's what that looks like." Clary says, staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile." She answers quietly.

Crap. I've been caught. I act smug even though I don't feel it and look away as if I have something better to look at saying, "Yeah, well, like I said before, take a picture because it'll last a whole lot longer."

She groans in annoyance and says, "It must be nice being as cool as you. I've seen you at school. You're always alone. Do you enjoy being alone?"

I glance at her. I'm never alone. At least not at school, that's where the crowds of my adoring fans are.

"Jace, some people have the ability to look lonely wherever they are and you are one of those people. You're trapped in your head as much as I am." Clary tells me, looking me in the eyes. She seems to feel...I don't know... It's not sympathy. She doesn't feel sorry for me. More like, she understands me...which is absolutely absurd. Nobody gets me because I don't allow them to. She doesn't have permission therefore this whole situation is implausible.

I look away from her again. "I'm not alone." I try to say.

She stands up and offers me her hand. I decline and stand up myself which annoys her a little. "Sure you aren't. You surround yourself with the most obnoxious people in school when in fact you're one of the most quiet. You're not one of them-you're different." She says.

I scoff. After all the work I've put in to fit in, she says I'm still different. I _am_ but nobody is supposed to know that.

"It isn't such a crime to be different Jace." She tells me.

I look down at her and wonder why she thinks she has the right to lecture me. "Yeah? Why's being different so cool?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Fitting in is overrated. It's redundant and such a mundane activity that it's the true crime." She replies.

"It's not that simple." I say. My image is everything. It helps keep the nasty thoughts at bay. Being surrounded by noise blocks the voices out. It helps block out the pain-even only for a little bit. In reality though, I am alone. I'm always alone. Except when I'm with Max and it looks like Clary can see through me. Until now I was sure that was impossible.

"Sure it is. Drop the act and be honest. Tell me one thing about yourself that nobody else knows. Then I'll tell you about myself if you want. That way it'll be a trade." She says.

"It's getting dark." I point out.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" Clary asks.

"Of course not." I answer.

"Come on now, tell the truth." She says.

"Fine. I want to be heard." I tell her flatly.

This catches her off-guard. "What do you want to say?" She asks.

I shrug. Might as well humor her. "Anything. Everything. Tell them society sucks and a boatload of other stuff."

"Society does suck." She agrees.

"What about you? What's something that you want?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment. When she starts to take to long I say, "I'll bet you want world peace; huh?"

"Nah, world peace is improbable." She says with a good-natured smile.

"What do you want then Little Red?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I want to hear a better insult than that. That one was weak." She replies.

I chuckle. "Of course you do Fray."

"You're going to need to try harder Lightwood." She counters.

"Don't call me that." I say stiffly.

"Why?" She asks.

"It isn't my last name. Okay, so that's two things you know about me so you owe me two." I say.

She shakes her head.

"Why not?" I ask.

"You know that I don't support the practicality of world-peace. That counts as one. Therefore you already know one thing about me." She answers.

"I also know that you're a cheater." I point out.

Clary grins up at me, her emerald eyes glowing in the dim sunset. "Now you know two things about me." She says slyly.

I can't help but grin back because I've been caught. This girl is nearly always one step ahead of me. I really don't stand a chance.


	6. Or A Moment

**Sorry for the late update. To make up for it, I'm going to update twice. This chapter is the first of the double-update. The next chapter is called "that's held in your arms." Thanks for sticking around and sorry again for the wait.**

* * *

"_Or a moment"_

**Jace**

A moment; don't we all need a moment? Don't we all wish we could preserve just one moment in time? Just one? Or even part of one? Isn't that what life is anyway? Is it not simply just a collection of moments that play out before our very eyes? There are some that we would like to keep and some that we would rather not remember. Here's an example of one I'd rather not remember: my father's death. That moment plays in my head nearly every night. It is the single worst moment of my life because I lost the only family I had ever known. This moment however is something entirely different. If it were possible, I would freeze this moment with Clary. It's nice thinking that she might be able to understand me.

Of course, then I come to my senses and realize what just happened between us, what we just shared. We shared a moment. I'm losing my touch. I'm not supposed to do this. If I keep this up then she'll get hurt. I refuse to be responsible for another death. My mother knew better than to stay, she knew I wasn't worth the trouble. Father tried to warn me not to care about anyone but I didn't listen and he died. I always endanger people. First my father, then innocent Max who I can't help but love because he treats me like his big brother and tells everyone that that's who I am. I like being his big brother so I treat him as my little brother since no one else is around to take care of him. It's because of this that I'm constantly worried about him because he looks up to me and expects me to protect him when really I'm the danger, and now I'm feeling stuff for Clary. How many other people am I going to put in harm's way? Why must I care about so many people? Can't I just isolate myself so I don't hurt anyone else? Why am I so selfish?

"Hello? Earth to Jace?" Clary asks.

I blink and realize I'm still standing beside Clary in the graveyard. It's already dark and Max is probably still home alone. I need to get back so I can watch him. Has he eaten dinner yet?

"Jace? Are you with me?" Clary asks, putting her hand on my arm.

I look at her and wonder how long she's been trying to bring me back into the real world. I'm surprised she didn't just leave me to my thoughts. That's what most people do.

"Hi." I say.

"Hi." Clary replies, studying me as if I'll do something crazed any second.

"It's late. We should both head home." I tell her. "Where do you live?" I ask and then mentally berate myself for doing so.

"Why do you need to know?" She asks, raising her eyebrows. Yeah, I know what that sounded like; it sounded like I want to be her creepy stalker.

"It's dark and it isn't safe to walk around New York City alone in the dark." I answer.

"I've done it before but thanks for your concern." She says, beginning to walk away.

I watch her as she walks down the hill in the opposite direction of the Lightwood house. Okay, so _now_ I really do sound like her creepy stalker. Clary really is something though. Why am I even interested? She's just a girl. No, she isn't. She's different and proud of it.

Shrugging my shoulders I try to end my mental battle with myself as I begin the walk home where Max is probably waiting alone. As I walk down the street I realize that there isn't one moment with Clary that I would trade for anything. This is the most dangerous thing I have ever thought and I don't really care.


	7. That's Held I'm Your Arms

**Sorry for the late update. To make up for it, I've updated this fanfic twice. This is the second of the two updates. The first is called, "Or a moment". Thanks for sticking around and I'm sorry for updating late.**

* * *

"_That's held in your arms"_

**Jace**

I come home and get chewed out by Mr. Lightwood because he actually decided to come home early for a change and realized that I was not there. After a thrilling match of my frustrated silence and his angry words, I'm sent to bed early without dinner. Also, I'm supposedly grounded but he can only enforce that if he's here which he rarely is and he'll probably forget to tell Mrs. Lightwood who's rarely here more often than he is, so I'm off the hook. Rather than going to bed since it's only 8:52 PM, I do my homework like the good nerd I pretend I'm not. Once that's done, I go to bed sometime around 11:32PM.

A horrific scream jolts me out of my nightmares. I clamber out of bed and head straight to the source: Max's room. He's often haunted by nightmares that make him yell in fright. I don't blame him since he's only nine so of course nightmares still scare him; mine still scare me and I'm practically an adult. I open his door, turn on the light and sit on the bed beside the thrashing kid.

"Max? Can you hear me? Wake up buddy." I say, shaking his shoulder.

He shrinks away from me and I raise my voice, "Max? It's Jace, can you hear me little dude?"

This time he shoots bolt upright and looks around the room frantically. "Jace?" He calls out, his young eyes wide as they fill with frightened tears.

"I'm right here Max." I tell him, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"Jace!" He cries, throwing himself at me. He buries his face into my shirt and it becomes wet immediately. I hug him and rub his back, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay Max. It's all right. It wasn't real. Nothing bad will happen to you." I promise him.

"That's not what my nightmare was about." He mumbles into my shirt between his hiccupping sobs.

"What was it about then?" I ask, wondering what could have made him so upset. Maybe he saw one of his parents or Isabelle or Alec die. That freaks him out a lot too.

"I saw you die." He sobs, latching onto me tighter.

Oh.

"Don't worry Max. I'm not going anywhere." I tell him.

"Promise?" He asks in a small voice.

"I promise buddy. I'm right here. I won't leave you. Everything's going to be all right." I reassure him.

I hug him until he stops crying and then I let go.

Max wipes his eyes and nose on his shirt and then fumbles around for his glasses. He puts them on and asks, "Can you tell me a story?"

I hesitate. He needs his sleep, but whenever he hears a story after a nightmare, he's less likely to have another nightmare so he'll get more sleep than if he goes to bed now and wakes up in a few hours.

"Please?" He asks.

"Okay." I relent. "What story do you want to hear?"

"I wanna hear one about heroes who save the day and get the girl-like you. That's where you were this evening; right? With a girl I mean?" He asks with a grin.

Okay, so maybe I'm not the _best_ influence in the world but hey, it's better than nothing.

"I was talking to a girl but she is not my girlfriend. She's my…" I start. What is Clary? "Acquaintance." I finish feeling awkward.

Max just laughs at me. "You _like_ her." He says, sounding very sure of himself.

I don't know what to say. _Of course I'm outwitted by a nine year-old. _I think. _Because that makes _so much_ sense._

"No I don't." I reply. "Now, do you want to hear a story or not?" I ask.

He snuggles under my arm and looks at me expectantly. I chuckle to myself and begin the story.

"Once upon a time, there was a brave knight. He was dashing, stunningly handsome; he could charm women just by looking at them..." I start.

"Get on with it." Max says.

"Do you know what his name was?" I ask.

"Jace." He answers, rolling his eyes.

"You've got that right kid." I joke.

He sticks his tongue out at me.

"Okay, I'll tell a different story." I say. "Once upon a time, there was a brave warlock named,"

"Max!" He declares.

I smile at him, "Named Max and he lived in the kingdom with the knight because he,"

"He was the knight's younger brother!" Max decides.

My smile nearly falters as I think about the danger I put him in. _You're going to get the kid that's held in your arms killed one day._ My father's voice says in my head.

Max grins up at me and waits for me to continue the story.

"Yeah, Max was Jace's younger brother and the two protected the kingdom from bad wizards, dragons and evil faeries." I continue.

Max snuggles up to my chest and eventually falls asleep before the story is over. He really can fall asleep anywhere. I carefully take his glasses off, placing them on his nightstand and then I gently lay him on his bed. Then I tuck him in. Before leaving, I take a quick glance at my self-adopted little brother and feel just a little glad that I'm here to help him through the night even though nobody ever helped me.

_At least he feels safe when he's held in your arms. _A strange voice tells me. I have to agree. Even though I feel like he's in danger when he's around me, I'm still glad that I can protect him from some things, even if they're just imaginary.


	8. What Do You Think You'd Ever Say?

_"What do you think you'd ever say?"_

**Jace**

I walk down the halls and see Clary. She's talking to some nerd in my AP Physics class but she makes eye-contact when she sees me staring. Neither of us make a move towards the other, neither of us say anything, neither of us break eye-contact. It's as if we're frozen in this moment, unable to move, unable to speak, just frozen. We're both searching each other's eyes for answers to questions we'd probably never ask, questions I won't ask, questions I won't answer, things that could never be.

Someone claps me on the shoulder and I break the contact to see Sebastian, the most popular jerk (after yours truly of course) in the school.

"Come on Jace, how low was your score for that math test?" Sebastian asks. We just got them back and everyone thinks it's funny when I get low grades.

"I got a twelve." I reply, plastering a cocky grin on my face.

"Wow, you're more stupid than I am." Sebastian laughs.

"What did you get?" I ask.

"A forty-two." He answers. "That's forty more than you got."

No, it's thirty more points you nimrod. In all honesty I got a ninety-five but I have this deal with the teachers. They give me fake tests and assignments with poor grades but they give me my actual grades on the computer. Colleges will know I'm brilliant but the imbeciles I spend my time with won't. It's been an especially helpful system since middle school.

I glance at Clary again who gives me a knowing look. Why must she do that? Why does she act like she knows me? She doesn't. Besides, nothing can ever happen between us. Nothing can ever happen between anyone and me.

Clary not only has art with me but she also sits beside me in history class. History used to be my favorite subject until this distracting girl moved here. I know, history doesn't seem like the most interesting class in the world but if one learns about the past then one can change the future which is exactly what I intend to do. I'm not going to be the cause of anyone else's death.

"Did you really get such a low score in AP Calc?" She asks before class starts.

I nod and shrug as if it doesn't matter because this is what's expected of me.

"I find that hard to believe." She says.

I ignore this statement. There's no point in paying attention to this nonsense.

"You're smart-not just snarky but actually intelligent." She starts, clearly preparing to go into a long, drawn out speech.

"Stop." I interrupt.

She gives me a questioning look, her emerald eyes piercing my very soul. Clary can see me for who I am-not all of me-just a glimpse but this is still far too much for anyone to see. Especially someone like her who could actually get through to me. It terrifies me because this could kill her and that would be the death of me.

"Why?" Clary asks. "You know it's true."

I do, that's why I want you to stop talking.

"Just shut up." I growl.

"Excuse me?" She questions, giving me a look.

"I told you to shut up. What do you think you'd ever say? What could you possibly say to me to make me change my actions? How did you picture this conversation in your head? Did you think I would just smile and nod as you spoke? It won't happen so just stop." I snap.

Clary glares at me but there's hurt underneath the glare. Hurt that I caused. Even when I'm protecting her I'm hurting her. This is why life is so difficult.


	9. I Won't Listen Anyway

**_This is part of an idea given to me by Serinity Shadowstar. If you have any ideas you want me to write, then PM me or, tell me the name of your best fanfic and I'll read and review that._**

**_Also, sorry for the late updates. I have one word for you all. School._**

**_Anyway, enjoy!_**

* * *

_"I Won't Listen Anyway"_

**Jace**

I nearly fall asleep in AP Calc for the second time in five minutes. I'm truly and utterly exhausted. Between Max's night terrors and my own nightmares, I've gotten virtually no sleep all week. Friday cannot come fast enough but of course it's only Thursday.

My eyes close for a brief second and Ms. Finchly calls, "Jonathan, wake up!"

My eyes snap open and I have trouble focusing my glare at her. I loathe when people call me by my first name. My full name is Jonathan Christopher Herondale, but I go by Jace because my father called me Jonathan and I don't want anyone else to have the privilege. Also, Jace sounds cooler than Jonathan.

"Don't you give me the stink eye young man, you should know better than sleeping in my class." She says.

"Why?" I ask lazily through a yawn. "I won't listen anyway. You know what I got on that last test."

The class laughs and I yawn again, really not feeling like dealing with any of this but continuing the charade for the good of the reputation I've created for myself.

"Jonathan, I'm giving you a warning. You don't want detention." Ms. Finchly states firmly.

"Are you sure? I could keep you company and we'd have a wonderful time." I say, plastering my legendary smirk on my face.

The class thinks it's funny except for a few nerds who sit in the front of the class and never laugh at anything. Ms. Finchly isn't too amused either.

"Hmm, it looks like you will have detention today." Ms. Finchly starts.

"Perfect, it's a date." I quip.

The class roars with laughter and Ms. Finchly looks even less impressed. "With Coach Saul in the athletics department." She finishes.

Crap. The football coach. Scratch that, _my_ football coach. I am now officially royally screwed.

The class laughs even louder.

"Would anyone care to join him?" Ms. Finchly questions.

The class goes so silent, a pencil could fall on the floor and the sound would reverberate off the walls.

"That's what I thought." Ms. Finchly says and then she continues to teach the class.

Score

Teacher: 1

Idiot student conformer: 0

After class is over, Ms. Finchly keeps me for a few minutes. This will make me late for a detention I'm already going to get chewed out for and does nothing to improve my crashing mood.

Ms. Finchly waits until everyone else is gone (thank goodness) and begins saying things that make my skin crawl.

"Jace, are you all right honey?" She asks.

That's the thing about Ms. Finchly. She's actually a really sweet older woman who calls everyone "honey" or "sweetie". She has curly white hair and large black circular glasses with thick lenses. She's sort of short and honestly reminds me of a finch (the tiny but spunky bird).

"I'm fine." I say. I am fine. I don't need help or concern or pity. I'm okay. Always have been always will be.

"Why do you look so tired?" She asks. "It's not like you to fall asleep in class."

I shrug. "Must've stayed up too late. It's no big deal." I say.

"It is a big deal when one of my brightest looks ready to pass out from exhaustion." She says, smiling sadly at me.

"I'm fine, really. Can I have the detention slip now?" I say, ignoring her statement about me being one of the brightest. Compliments make me uncomfortable. Father wasn't too keen on them; he didn't say nice things to me and I wasn't to say kind things to him. Doing so shows affection and that's dangerous.

Ms. Finchly gives me another infuriating look of pity and doesn't hand me the slip. Instead, she crumbles it up and throws it in the trash.

"Why did you do that?" I ask.

"I'll let it slide this time, but if you do it again there will be consequences." She says.

I nod. "Thank you." I say staring at the floor as I force the words out.

"You're welcome. Stay out of trouble Jace." She says.

I can't help but grin. "Trouble? Me?" I ask.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Go home before I change my mind and make you clean the classroom instead." She says.

I nod, grab my bag and look at the clock. Crap. It's 3:30. I was supposed to pick Max up from his school half an hour ago. He's probably still there or worse-he tried walking home by himself. The thoughts send me into a panic and I start running through the halls, too distracted to see the caution signs until my feet are already out from under me and my head hits the ground hard.

Oh, they're waxing the floors today. Great.

Then all I see is black.

* * *

**Jace**

I wake up on something mildly soft and initially think it's my bed until I can't remember going back to the Lightwoods'. As I open my eyes, pain spikes in my head from the bright light and I shut them immediately. I open them just a little and see Coach standing by wherever I am and Ms. Finchly standing beside him. They're both staring at me. That's not strange or creepy at all. Then I remember what happened and ignoring the nearly excruciating pain in exploding in my skull, I sit up. Max. Oh crap.

"How do you feel Jace?" Ms. Finchly asks.

"I'm fine. I need to go now." I say, swinging my legs over the side of the cot. I'm in the nurse's office. Perfect; that's closer to the main entrance which is the closest entrance to the student parking lot.

"You need to stop moving son, you might have a concussion." Coach Saul says.

The word "son" makes me inwardly cringe. I'm nobody's son; not anymore. I stand and say, "I'll take the concussion test tomorrow before school. I need to do something."

I grab my backpack and head for the door, leaving both adults surprisingly quiet. I glance back and they're giving me horrible concerned looks. This is extraordinarily creepy.

I check my phone and see nine new messages. They're all from a number that isn't on my contacts list but I listen to them anyway. I'm surprised when I recognize the voice immediately. Clary.


End file.
